


Mistakes

by KaijinKyn



Series: What Red Feels Like [1]
Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bird/Human Hybrids, Drunk Sex, First Time, Floor Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:19:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaijinKyn/pseuds/KaijinKyn
Summary: Tohri got the feeling Hitori had become a bigger influence on Souma than either of the other two understood and the fallout reminded Tohri of what Souma had been like after Ryuuji’s death. It was painful to think about, hard to remember and with Souma looking at him like that - sad, alone, in need ofsomebodyto just give him a little comfort or attention - Tohri couldn’t say no, not with the wine in his bloodstream and the potential threat of Souma going elsewhere for the company he needed.Tohri would rather it be himself than anyone else.





	Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> //WHEEZES// I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED THIS ONE T B H  
> SORRY IT'S MORE REDVERSE PORN

How long ago had the bottle of wine been emptied? Souma wasn’t sure, he’d lost track of the passage of time around the same point he’d lost track of his self-control. If this were anyone’s fault, in Souma’s alcohol riddled-mind, it was Tohri’s for leaving the wine in such a place that Souma could get his depressed talons on it.

The other had objected at first - Souma wasn’t in the best place nor the right mind at the moment and alcohol wasn’t going to help him feel any better about his circumstances with Hitori - but then Souma had started drinking straight from the bottle itself and Tohri had given in fairly easily, if only to stop Souma from consuming _all_ the wine, all at once.

So now it lay empty and knocked over on the glass table in the apartment living room as Souma struggled to undo his trouser buttons, the two of them kneeling on the floor. Tohri was eying him wearily as he did, the pheasants grey shirt still on his grey body and his grey _everything_.

“Isa… Don’t, let’s not do this…” Souma paused, looking up for a split second at the other, his expression… Hurt. Tohri flinched, eyebrows drawing over his face - _‘no, don’t look at me like that, you know this isn’t fair’._ Souma had never been the best at keeping himself tidy; the younger male constantly carrying bags under his eyes, his hair untamable and greasy, his clothes wrinkled - but since Hitori had kicked him out he had been so much _worse,_ barely able to take care of himself.

Tohri got the feeling Hitori had become a bigger influence on Souma than either of the other two understood and the fallout reminded Tohri of what Souma had been like after Ryuuji’s death. It was painful to think about, hard to remember and with Souma looking at him like that - sad, alone, in need of _somebody_ to just give him a little comfort or attention - Tohri couldn’t say no, not with the wine in his bloodstream and the potential threat of Souma going elsewhere for the company he needed.

Tohri would rather it be himself than anyone else.

With that thought in mind and keeping any others down with the help of the alcohol making his brain fuzzy, Tohri moved forward to help his not-quite-a-friend, not-quite-an-enemy with his buttons, long talons defter with more practice for the art. Souma visibly relaxed, his body sagging slightly once he realised Tohri had accepted his silent pleads.

“...Thank you.” It only felt appropriate to say, Tohri’s perfectly manicured claws gently dancing along the skin just above his boxers and just dipping beneath the fabric - although they stopped at Souma’s words, Tohri looking up from what he was doing with a small frown. He didn’t _need_ the other’s thanks, this wasn’t what Tohri had been expecting them to be doing on a Friday night nor had he ever thought it was something he’d do with Isa Souma, of all people.

There were so many reasons as to why they shouldn't do this. He couldn’t accept Souma’s thanks, knowing that.

“Don’t, Isa.” There wasn’t much else Tohri could bring himself to say so he didn’t say anything at all, reaching up with his free talon to cup Souma’s face gently and bring him closer, their lips meeting awkwardly - Tohri wondering to himself how many people Souma had kissed before, if any - before the partridge pushed back, one talon leaning heavily on Tohri’s thigh and the other fisting itself in Tohri’s shirt, far too desperate for any kind of physical contact.

Claws going back to dancing across Souma’s abdomen, Tohri kept the younger still with his talon on Souma’s face as he kissed him, feeling the other’s cold lips warm under his own. Souma shivered slightly at his ministrations, gasping a little when Tohri finally pushed his talon past the waistband of Souma’s boxers and palmed at him gently, whimpers building at the back of the partridge’s throat.

Tohri’s talon was not the one Souma was used to having around his cock - Souma had only ever touched himself like this and every stroke was a new feeling, Tohri’s longer, thinner talons that were surprisingly soft sending shock down Souma’s legs and making his lower claws curl, breath coming in faster and faster huffs of pleasure.

“Y-You… Aren’t you- Supposed to be an artist? A mechanic?” Souma couldn’t quite convey what he wanted to say, words lost in the blank fuzz of _goodness_ that was slowly building in his brain. The two of them had stopped kissing, Souma’s forehead balanced and leaning heavily against Tohri’s own, the older still holding Souma’s face as he jerked him off, golden eyes closed to concentrate on the task and not necessarily _who_ he was touching.

“Moisturizer does exist, Souma… You’d benefit from using it sometime.” His reply was a low, almost amused murmur to contrast Souma’s blatantly loud speaking voice, thought Tohri wasn’t going to hold that against him - the pheasant knew firsthand how hard it was to keep quiet when being touched in such a way.

Souma opened his mouth, perhaps to reply back in the familiarly snappy way that they tended to use when arguing - but then Tohri squeezed his talon and _twisted_ a little before the other could even begin and all that came out was a moan, Souma rocking back in surprised pleasure and almost falling over due to it.

“Stay _still_ , Souma-” Tohri hissed, catching Souma before he really could fall and pull Tohri with him by wrapping his free arm around the other’s waist, drawing Souma closer to his body rather than his face and forcing his occupied arm to twist at a slightly weird angle. Apparently that shifted his grip slightly because Souma didn’t even bother trying to snap back, the only thing escaping his mouth being another, far needier moan as he ducked his head, shoulders quivering with pleasure.

Though he tried, there wasn’t really any need for Souma to warn Tohri of his quickly approaching orgasm - the pheasant could tell instinctively, past experience of similar treatment to other birds warning him ahead of time. The slight shifting of Souma’s hips was enough, the younger trying to rock forwards and bring himself closer to completion coupled with his increasingly louder noises of pleasure telling Tohri all he needed to know.

“ _Hitori-_ ” That was the name Souma choked out when he finally unravelled, entire body tensing and shoulders wracked with shudders as he came into Tohri’s talon. It was sad for a multitude of reasons, Tohri supposed, thought the most obvious one was that Tohri was certainly _not_ Hitori and he never would be.

Souma seemed to realise his mistake nearly immediately afterwards, curled body straightening up and a talon flying up to cover his own mouth, drunken tears pooling in the corners of purple eyes as Tohri observed him, his own calm fake. It was unfair of Tohri to want Souma to say his own name like that - Tohri had a _boyfriend_ and Souma didn’t return the feelings he didn’t even know Tohri had for him, whatever those might be - yet, even so he’d held the slightest of hopes, useless as they were.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up, Isa.” Tohri cut him off, voice tired as he eventually let Souma go, the partridge shivering in response as the lack of contact and sudden chill. He was foolish for hoping, for wanting more than he already had - Kazuaki was the best thing in his life and he was _right next door._ They were stopping here, Tohri wasn’t going to continue entertaining Souma lest they cross too many lines and end up making mistakes they’d rather not.

Wrinkling his nose somewhat at the mess on his talon, Tohri got to his feet in order to retrieve the tissues from his bedroom - he owned them for a reason of course and the common cold was not it - Souma was too out of it to try and leave and Tohri was fairly certain he’d satisfied the other enough.

He _had_ been certain, until he felt talons on his wrist and a tongue on his palm, alarm bells immediately going off in Tohri’s head as Souma lowered himself to the point of licking his own cum off Tohri’s talon, the older too shocked to react fast enough or with enough composure to prevent Souma from completing his task.

“Sorry…” Souma breathed across Tohri’s skin once he was done, Tohri too shocked to reply in any way as Souma threaded their talon’s fingers together, looking up pleadingly at Tohri and pressing their intertwined talons to his own cheek. “Please, Nishikikouji… Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone right now…”

“ _Souma-_ ” What could he say in response to _that?_ What could he? There were no words Tohri could string together that would make any sense, that would fix this situation, that would return their current lives to any semblance of normality - and though he’d tried his best, there was no denying the burn in Tohri’s abdomen now, the want that he’d tried to ignore. Souma was offering himself to Tohri like this and who was he to say no?

He should have stopped it then. Maybe something could have been salvaged from the wreckage the next day if he had, but - Tohri wasn’t known for his self-control and he’d wanted this for longer than he cared to admit. “You’ll be my first.” Well that made absolutely _nothing_ better but it was certainly enough to break what little hope Tohri had for himself, the pheasant squeezing his talon around Souma’s own before dropping back onto his knees to shove his lips against Souma’s a second time, the younger gasping softly and then returning the favour eagerly, apparently happy to have gotten his own way. He’d always been like that - a needy brat constantly in search of approval and praise.

Not unlike Tohri himself, he supposed.

Hooking his talons in the waistband of Souma’s trousers, Tohri was swift about pulling those off the other before he realised that the floor certainly wasn’t a very good setting for a first time, no matter how plush the carpet.

Tohri was not Hitori. Souma was not Kazuaki. These things were absolute knowledge, something that lingered in the backs of both of their minds as Tohri carried a sinfully light Souma to his room - but they didn’t care, not at that moment. Souma needed _someone_ to hold him and Tohri had been far too willing to do so for years now, if only the other had noticed his affection. But he’d always been dense and instead, Souma had fallen for the brother of the boy he had inadvertently killed which had… Obviously led to some heartbreak.

Tohri couldn’t tell Souma how he felt now, nor could he ever. He had Kazuaki, who he loved dearly and with all his heart. Tohri wouldn’t give up Kazuaki for anything or anyone, not even for Souma - but still he caught himself wishing, sometimes, that the other had noticed. That things had not gone so badly for them, that Kawara hadn’t died-

“You’re crying.” Souma’s voice was strangely gentle despite Tohri having tossed both himself and the other onto his bed without much care, crawling in between Souma’s legs directly after and stripping him of what little clothing he had left on. Had they been kissing? He couldn’t tell, though there was a slightly salty taste on Tohri’s tongue that hadn’t been there before - he didn’t want to think too hard about where that came from.

“I’m… No, I’m fine.”

“...We don’t have to-”

“It’s too late for that.” Tohri cut him off, his expression cold but his eyes betraying the hurt and confusion he felt with himself as Souma stared up at him ever blankly, face dull. “You can’t- Plead for me to stay and then tell me it’s okay to stop. What do you want me to _do_ , Souma?”

“What is it that-”

“You.” Tohri cut him off, voice shaking thought he wouldn’t permit himself to cry, not yet. “I want _you._ ” Was that good enough? It was the closest he could get to outright saying it.

“Then do as you wish.” Souma’s tone was flat and emotionless, as monotonous as Tohri remembered it being so long ago and he stared down at the other, his heart long broken into a million and one pieces - before he started to laugh, ducking his head as his shoulders shook silently and his laughter turned into tears. This wasn’t how he'd wanted them to turn out at all.

“You’re horrible, you know that? You’re the _worst_ , Isa Souma.”

“...You’ve always hated me. You saying that doesn’t change anything.”

“If you really believe that, then you’re stupider than I thought.”

 

* * *

 

Waking up the next morning was a monumental effort, thousands of things weighing on Tohri’s shoulders like a vice when the first thing he noticed was the leith body beside his own, too short and sharp and _naked_ to be Kazuaki’s.

He didn’t want to remember yesterday but half a bottle of wine wasn’t going to give Tohri the needed hangover to forget _anything_ and as it came back in a sudden rush of bad mistakes he found himself sobbing, curling slightly around the body in his arms and hiding tears in greasy brown hair. He was _pathetic_. Weak, useless - he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, even now. What would Hitori say? What would _Kazuaki_ say? The thoughts were too much for him to keep quiet, body wracked with regret.

He woke Souma up while doing so, Tohri knew that much from the way the other automatically seemed to tense under Tohri’s arms at the first signs of livelihood, only to relax as best he could when he seemingly made the same realisations as Tohri, staying still and listening to him cry before wrapping an arm around the other’s waist, pressing his face to Tohri’s chest in a facsimile of comfort.

“...I’m sorry.”

“Shut _up_ , Souma.” They stayed like that for a while, the awkwardness of their situation growing by the second but unwilling to let go of one another just yet. The comfort of another’s arms, even if it wasn’t the person that either of them wanted there; it was too much to want to leave.

Eventually Souma gave a soft murmur of “Nishikikouji,” into Tohri’s skin, moving his arms so he was pushing Tohri away rather than keep him close. He didn’t want to, he wasn’t ready to let go - but he knew he had to. Reluctantly releasing the partridge from his arms, Tohri couldn’t quite bring himself to watch Souma slip out of bed, hearing rather than seeing the bedroom door shut softly behind him.

Ah... What a mess. Even after all this time, all Tohri seemed to do when it came to Isa Souma was make mistakes.


End file.
